The Roman Empire
by Dreambender
Summary: Before there was the Roman, there was Carmine Falcone. When Carmine Falcone's mother is killed he is thrown into the very world he wanted to leave behind. And when all is said and done, an empire will rise from blood and death.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters in this are owned by DC, and no matter how much I pretend I own them myself, and illusion will always be just that, and illusion.

Chapter 1

In Gotham City, no one is untouchable. It doesn't matter who you are or what you do; you are not untouchable. Untouchable, in Gotham City, is an illusion created by politicians and drug lords out of bribes, money trails, and drugs. And no matter how real it may seem, an illusion will never be anything more than just an illusion. So no matter how much people try, in Gotham City, no one is untouchable.

---

Carmine Falcone—as he often stated--hated Gotham City. It wasn't just one particular thing he hated about the city; it was everything: the smell of the air, the people, the fact that every time you left your home, you would be putting your life in danger. He hated how every time the sun would set it would make the sky as red as blood. But most of all, Carmine hated his family, or rather, his family's business. For this reason Carmine wanted to leave Gotham forever, and no one was going to stop him. All Carmine needed to do was fix some last minute arrangements and he would be off with his family to Metropolis. Forever gone.

---

Falcone weddings are almost always big events, not just for the Falcones but for everyone in Gotham City. So it was no surprise that Carla Falcone and Felice Viti's wedding was on everyone's lips 3 days before the actual ceremony. Everyone from the mob bosses of Gotham to the lowly gangs knew of it, every detail from the decorations to the very popular guests to how many of the Falcones' men would be on guard. Vincent Falcone always did like to brag.

And it was also no surprise that his enemies would use this to their advantage. Somewhere in a back alley in East End, two dark figures converged to a nearby flaming pile of garbage. The night was dark and the Gotham clouds covered the face of the moon. Around the two figure, rats scurried about like shadow creatures known only by the lost. Their faces were lit up by the flame's soft glow, making the shadows on their faces make them more intimidating like faceless monsters in the darkness.

Salvatore Maroni spoke first in his hushed voice. "Pops wants you to take out someone," he said as he passed a brown envelop to the other man.

Luca "Toots" Mareli took the envelop and carefully began to take out the things inside: a snub-nose revolver, an invitation to the Falcone-Viti wedding, and a picture of his target.

"You sure this is the target?' he asked almost in disbelief as he showed the picture back to his employer.

"This ain't no time to develop a conscience Mareli. If we can do anything to hurt those damn Falcones, we should do it."

"I know, but she's done nothing to us."

"Just do it Mareli. Not like we're not paying you," he said with authority. He handed the photo back to Luca. "Do it Luca or you'll regret it."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, flashing red and blue lights came into the alley and a police car drove in from the corner of the street.

"Cops" Luca said obviously worried.

"Just go, I'll take care of this."

Luca Mareli didn't even bother to disagree. He didn't want to. He just wanted out of there. Without a second thought, he ran into the adjacent alley and disappeared into Gotham's embrace.

"A little late to be out, isn't it Mr. Maroni?" Two men came from within the police cruiser. One of them was a fat bearded man, and the other was a thin man with glasses and a brown mustache.

"I'm not a kid. I don't have a curfew, Flass" he said addressing the larger man.

"Course you are, Maroni. You're just 18 after all. Now, what would your father say of Gotham's finest if we just let kids like you run around at night.

"He'd say, you were cowards," he quipped.

Up to this point, the other man had stayed silent, just watching the two men's verbal jousting.

"Why you" said Flass as he pulled his 9MM on Maroni. It was then that the other police officer stepped in. He quickly knocked the gun out of Flass' hands.

"That's enough out of both of you! Just go home son."

"And you are?" Maroni asked.

Before the man could even open his mouth Flass answered the question. "Gordon. My new partner."

Salvatore began to circle Jim Gordon. His eyes set to study every detail of the man. "It seems GCPD still has righteous men in its force" he said then he leaned in closer to Gordon's face. "I don't like righteous men, Mr. Gordon, so in the future, I suggest you stay out of my way."

Gordon kept a straight face. "Only if you don't do anything illegal, kid. Now, please head on home. I'm sure your father is worried about you."

Maroni smiled. Sal looked into Gordon's eyes and Gordon looked into his. "I'll be seeing you around, Mr. Gordon." He turned and went on his way.

Flass picked up his weapon from the ground before entering the police car. Gordon followed shortly after.

"Gordon?"

"Hm?"

"Don't ever get in my way again."

3 days later.

Carmine was ready to leave. He was packing a few more folds of shirt into his already packed suitcase. Just one more week and he'd be gone. He'd get away from the family, away from the crime, away from everything. All that needed to be done was go to his sisters wedding. Personally, Carmine never enjoyed weddings. He hated any type of family gathering, but Louisa (his wife) had insisted they go, and he had agreed. After all, it may have been the last time he was ever going to see any of his family members. The least he could do was show some respect before he was gone forever.

No one in the family liked the idea of Carmine leaving. He was always the bright one among the three siblings, and many thought it a shame that his smarts were not used in the "family business". His father, Vincent was, in fact, infuriated when Carmine had finally mustered up the courage to tell him that he was leaving with his family. His father had picked up a handgun and began shooting blindly in all directions. Two bodyguards were injured. Carmine's sister, Carla, however, didn't seem to care much about his departure. She was always the spoiled one, and as long as they were rich, she couldn't care less. Everyone seemed to dislike his plans to leave which is why he was surprised that his older brother, Antonio, was very understanding about it.

"I understand why you have to leave" he had said. His voice was always the type to move people. "And no matter what happens, you'll still be mi famiglia. You will always be my brother."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Carmine shouted into the hall. A man about the same height as Carmine came into the room. He came in his well tailored suit and dark glasses. He kept both hands in his pockets. He was obviously fidgeting with something in there.

"Milos come in," he said "I'm just packing the last of my stuff."

Milos Grappa came closer to Carmine, pulling his hand out of his pocket. "The wedding's in an hour. We better get there early."

Carmine zipped up his bag and fixed his tie. "Shall we go?" he asked as he looked at himself at the mirror, combing his hair back.

"Of course" Milos answered.

Milos led Carmine to the car parked right outside his house. As they came to the street, a ball shot past Carmine's face, nearly hitting his features.

Milos quickly shot his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small snub-nosed revolver. He aimed to the direction of the ball and had every intention of firing if Carmine had not stopped him.

"Milos, it's just a ball." He said as he handed the ball back to the boy who had thrown it. Milos lowered his weapon slowly, almost cautiously.

Milos was, in every sense of the word, a bodyguard. Even if he and Carmine had grown up together, he had never seen himself as more than just the bodyguard of Carmine. Carmine had always tried to fix that.

"You know I don't like weapons, Milos."

"I wouldn't be much of a bodyguard if I didn't have a weapon."

Carmine reached his hand out to Milos. "Give me the gun." He demanded as he insistently kept his palm open. Milos seemed to think of what to do first. He hesitantly pulled the gun out of his pocket.

"Give me the gun" Carmine repeated a darker voice, in his voce, in his father's voice. Finally Milos gave him the gun.

"Now for the last time Milos, you're my friend, not my bodyguard."

---

Luca "Toots" Mareli was, at best, jumpy. And he had every reason to be. He had never done anything like this before, nothing of this magnitude. So it was understandable that he was sweating like an assassin on his first big hit as he came under the big flower decorated arc at the entrance of the Falcone compound. After this he would be a made man, he kept telling himself. All he needed to do was stay calm. He saw the two heavily muscled men at the entrance, and for the first time in his life he found himself doing something he had not done ever. He was praying.

"Invitation" said the shaded bouncer with his hand outstretched.

Luca nervously gave his invitation to the man, trying desperately not to look suspicious. As he handed his invitation, it was swiftly taken from his hand. The guard looked at it suspiciously.

"Something wrong?"

The guard simply gave him a grunt them allowed him into the compound.

Luca let out a big sigh when he got inside and whispered to himself "That was close" Now the hard part.

---

Gotham cops are rarely ever worth anything, but Jim Gordon was different. He wasn't at all corrupt, and in Gotham City, that's saying something. Jim Gordon hated it when the bad guys got away. And a lot of that had been happening lately since he moved to Gotham. To his dismay, he had gotten used to it. But what he hated the most was when the good guys couldn't do anything to hurt the bad guys. And that was exactly what was happening. All the cops in Gotham knew that the Falcones were having a wedding, and it would attract all the big time mob bosses: the Maronis, the Vitis from Chicago, the Skeevers, and the Gazzo family from Metropolis. And yet, they did nothing. They were all probably on the Falcones' paycheck, and that included his very own partner, Detective Flass.

"They're all right there just waiting for us to arrest them," he said to the commissioner.

"Arrest them? We don't even have proof any of them being guilty of any allegations against them. Until they're proven guilty, we can't touch them."

Gordon stayed silent. He knew there was nothing else to say. All he did was look back at the commissioner.

"We can't touch them. You understand?" the commissioner said. His voice was almost a shout. "Any of them."

Gordon turned and left the room.

"Gordon! I'm warning you, Gordon. Don't touch any of them."

All eyes were set on him. It seemed no one in Gotham liked good cops. Not even the cops themselves. Gordon felt like there was no one to trust here. And there really wasn't. He was alone.

He put on his trench coat and left the office. He walked aimlessly through the Gotham streets. The neon lights and gothic architecture didn't exactly make the city the most welcoming place on earth. If anything, it made the people cower in fear. How can there be hope in the hearts of the people when the city itself seems to have lost all hope? He had been doing this a lot lately, just walking the littered Gotham streets with no idea where exactly he was going. It helped him clear his mind, helped him understand exactly what he was doing in Gotham. His aimless journey brought him to an old part of East End which meant it was older than old.

There was a church there. Its windows were covered with plywood, and the stone walls were covered with graffiti. These were signs of abandonment. He pushed the massive doors open, and it creaked when it swung. Inside, the floor was wet with rain and rat urine. The stained glass were smashed into oblivion, leaving behind headless saints and angels. Soft bluish moonlight crept into the church and spilled onto the aisle.

Jim carefully made his way to the cross, making sure he did not step on the pungent smelling liquids on the floor. He knelt down on one of the wooden benches. Looking up at the cross, he prayed.

It was a silent prayer, designed only for one to hear. The words were muffled in the darkness. All that could be distinguishable of it was that it was just a short prayer, no more than six lines, and it ended with, "Something needs to be done."

---

It was a hot night, even for June, one of the hottest Gotham had ever known. Many of the guests joked that years from now people would complain about how hot it was, but those who were present at the Viti-Falcone wedding would say that it wasn't nearly as hot as the night Felice Viti and Carla Falcone got married.

Somewhere at the back of the room, Carmine Falcone stood waiting. Beside him was his trusted friend and bodyguard Milos Grappa always there to play the part of the guardian if ever needed. Carmine scanned the entire room for the person he was looking for. No luck. _She's probably late_, he thought. Then, out of the crowd she finally came, Louisa, his wife. She gave him a smile with her crimson lips as she approached in her gorgeous dress. It waved in the hot June air.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, pulling her towards him and giving her a kiss.

"Sorry, had to tuck in the kids first."

Behind them, Milos's eyes rolled inside his skull. Couples, he probably thought in an exasperated voice in his head.

Louisa saw this and laughed, and for some reason, Carmine felt like laughing as well. He shrugged. What are you gonna do? I love this woman and she loves me.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from inside the mansion. Everyone turned to see what was going on. From somewhere inside the crowd, Carmine heard his father's voice. Signs of anger evidently lined them.

"What the hell was that!?" he asked no one in particular. And all the people did was give him a puzzled look.

But then, the anger in his voice faded, changed into something else, changed into fear.

"Vivian" he whispered under his breathe. He raced into the manor, not caring who he hit on the way. Carmine followed his father with Milos closely behind him.

"Stay here" he shouted back to his wife, and she nodded in response.

Through the marbled corridors they ran. All Carmine saw was his father in front of him. He could hardly catch up, and, at the moment, was surprised by how fast his father ran.

When Carmine got to his mother's bedroom, he stopped next to his father. His father stood silent and still. Tears balled up in his eyes, and with all his power, he tried to hold them back. They were joined by Milos, Antonio, and the other guards. All of them stopped as well.

"They're going to pay." He heard his father say. "They're going to pay."

Next time: Carmine and his family are forced to postpone their trip to Metropolis for Vivian Falcone's funeral. And with one Falcone dead, the Maronis want to finish the job.


	2. Chapter 2

The Roman Empire

Chapter 2

Okay update time. All reviews are welcome even flames because how am I supposed to get better if I don't get any negative feedback.

Carmine Falcone always hated family gatherings. There was a reason for it; he just never really knew quite what it was. But now, as he stood alongside his family members on that hot June day, he knew exactly why he hated family gatherings.

He stood there, almost paralyzed, staring into that gaping hole where they lowered his mother, and he knew the reason: it was because there was always that possibility that someone would turn up dead. And now, Carmine's worst dreams were realized.

A tear fell into the dry, brown earth.

Around him, Carmine could tell that few people were actually crying. This infuriated him in ways he feared, and he tried his best to calm himself down.

He noticed his father in the same position he was in, standing by the hole, trying desperately to hold tears back, but failed in his attempts.

From somewhere at the back of the crowd, Milos approached. He held his hat with his two hands and kept his nose to the ground.

"I-I'm sorry of your loss," he said in a soft tone.

"It wasn't your fault, Milos"

"But I was in charge of security, and he got past," he said as he remembered the night Vivian Falcone was murdered.

"Look at me, Milos" he said, drawing Milos's face closer to his so their eyes would lock. "It wasn't your fault."

"Of course, it wasn't" a booming voice came from behind them. "There's a rat in our family." Vincent Falcone padded towards them, flanked by two guards. "When I find whoever is responsible---"

"You want to blame someone for what happened." Carmine suddenly said. "Why don't you blame yourself?"

"Your mother's death was not my fault!" Vincent said angrily. "It was those damn Maronis."

It frightened people, the way they fought. It was like watching two devils at each other's necks. They were so intimidating when they were angry and they were intimidating in the same way which probably made it scarier for some people because they all knew that Carmine would one day be exactly like his father.

"She wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for you!" Carmine answered back.

Everyone there saw it. They saw the look in Carmine's eyes, and they feared him just as they feared Vincent.

"Alright, that's enough out of both of you!" Finally Antonio decided to get between the two men. Others followed his lead and tried to separate them.

Carmine tried with all his power to escape their grip, but when he couldn't he gave up.

"Carmine, I think you should leave" Antonio urged his brother.

"Don't worry. I'm leaving" with that said, Carmine disappeared into the crowd.

---

He felt so dirty like there was a stench on him that couldn't be removed by simply taking a bath. _What have I done? _he thought. _They're coming for me. Vincent Falcone's going to come down on me hard and I'll pay for what I did. _

"Luca!" A voice came from behind him. _It's them_, he thought.

"Luca!" it went again.

He tried to get away, but the person following him drew closer. Soon, the man following him would catch up.

Luca "Toots" Mareli ran as fast as he could, past the old, brick houses of east end, past the littered streets of Gotham.

Luca looked back at the man after him. At first, the man was gone, but then, out of the shadows he came like some sort of monster out of hell. In fear, Luca Mareli ran blindly through the alleyways of Gotham.

"Get away form me!" he said as he tripped over a trash can.

"Luca what's your problem?" the man asked as he helped Luca to his feet. "You're a made man now. We just need you to do one last thing."

"No, I'm done" he said, pushing the man away. "with all of it: the family, the crime, all of it."

"Don't be stupid, Luca."

"No!" he exclaimed. "I'm not. For the first time since I joined the family, I'm being smart."

Salvatore Maroni's features seamed to darken. Before Luca could react, Sal had grabbed his shirt and pushed him to the wall. "Now, you look here, you piece of shit. You may think you're doing the right thing here, but in Gotham that ain't worth nothing. And if you quit on us, we're gonna hunt you down, and you're going to end up at the bottom of Gotham river just like the rest of those Falcones. You understand me?"

Luca gave a small nod, fearful that he would get exactly what Sal promised. And yet he seemed to hesitate like there was something good still lingering inside. But just like most people in Gotham, that was pushed aside by the fear of death.

Upon seeing the reaction, Salvatore Maroni released Luca, and neatly tidied up Luca's suit. "We're all friends here Luca, and I just want what's best for you, for us. Now, about that job…"

---

Jim Gordon knelt in the front row of the church. This time it was the clean church, the one in upper Gotham. Similar to the old one though, the church was almost empty, vacant of life.

It was night again. The day just seemed to zip by. Gordon had heard of Vivian Falcone's murder, and was just about to do an autopsy of it when the body was suddenly released. The Falcones had paid off the police to give them the body immediately. Gordon didn't even bother to protest. He just simply made his way to the nearest church.

He prayed again. Perhaps it was the same prayer from the other night, the one that ended with something needs to be done, but no one could really be certain.

Jim heard a rustling from somewhere in the back rooms. _It's probably the priest_, he thought. He stood up to look for him because something inside him urged him to have confession. For Jim Gordon, allowing the criminals to run free was as bad as being one of them. He needed to be forgiven for his sins.

He made his way to the door to the back room. Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open, away from him. There, in front of him, stood a woman. She was quite pretty and had red hair.

Jim looked at the expression on her face. She seemed embarrassed, and he knew why. She walked past him, keeping her head down.

As Gordon turned back to the door, he found the priest standing within the door frame.

"May I help you?" the father asked.

"No," Jim replied nodding his head.

Outside, Jim Gordon leaned against the stone walls of the church. He removed his glasses and began to massage the bridge of his nose. _God, even the priests_, he thought weeping inside. _Is there really no hope for Gotham?_

A tear fell to the ground.

---

When dealing with a loss, a person goes through five stages. And Antonio Falcone began to feel the effects of the second stage, anger. For the first time in his life, Antonio understood why his father hated the Maronis so badly.

They deserved death and more, and Antonio was going to go to all lengths to give them exactly that. He would destroy everything they loved: their family, their "business".

He came to Carmine's house with two men in tow. They were going to make the Maronis pay, but he felt that Carmine needed to be with them.

"No" Carmine said with every bit of conviction in his voice.

"What do you mean no?" Antonio asked in disbelief at his brother's response. "They killed mother! They should pay!"

"Let justice punish them."

Antonio had to admit, although he respected Carmine's desire to leave the family, he never understood why Carmine had so much hope in Gotham.

"Justice? Carmine, we're in Gotham. There is no justice. We are the only future Gotham has."

"That doesn't mean we're the right future!"

Antonio finally gave up in his attempts convince his brother. "Fine. You want to go to Metropolis and have your life, Carmine? Okay, but I never thought you'd forget where you came from. These people killed ma, and all you can think about is the first flight out of Gotham."

Antonio left with the men closely following him. Carmine stood in the middle of the room, motionless. He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for what he had done. He believed he was doing the right thing, but then he remembered that in Gotham City, doing the right thing ain't worth shit.

Louisa peaked from the other room, somewhat concerned at how her husband was doing after the conversation with his brother. "You okay?"

He looked at her, and something in his eyes told her he wasn't.

"You're going after him" it wasn't a question.

"Yes," was his reply. "I don't know what I'll do if he dies. There's been too much death already."

"Carmine, please don't." but it was quite evident in Carmine's body language that he had his mind made up.

Carmine gave his wife a hug then called his children into the room. Sophia and Mario approached their father slowly somewhat unsure of what was happening. Carmine then gave them a hug. He turned to his wife again. "I promise I'll be back."

With a quick nod to Milos, they were off.

As Carmine shut the door, he did not notice the clear tears that started form in the sides of Louisa's eyes.

A tear fell to the ground.

---

Luca "Toots" Mareli sat impatiently in a rather small car which he thought was not at all suited for a mobster. For one thing the trunk was too small, but he was starting to drift from the topic that worried him the most.

Inside the car with him were two other gentlemen whom Salvatore Maroni had insisted to go with him just in case Luca's conscience starts to act up again.

Luca did not personally know the two men, but he had seen them up and down the block near their compound on occasion. One of them was an Irishman: Peter "Petey" Sullivan. He was supposedly some sort of bomb expert and highly trusted by the Maroni family. The other was Michael Skeevers. Luca didn't know little to anything about him. All he knew was that he worked for the Maronis and that meant he was a bad man.

"Ya alright, Mareli?" Sullivan asked. "Ya look a bit jumpy."

"Fine" he said, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief.

Michael took a quick glance at him then began to speak. "Alright, you both know the plan. We go in there, get what we need then we get out. Clear?"

Petey nodded his head immediately. Luca took longer to nod, but he nodded nonetheless.

It was then that they saw Antonio Falcone leave with to guards on their car.

Sullivan reached for the car door, but Michael told him to wait. "Let's wait for a few more minutes."

Five minutes later, they saw Carmine and Milos leaving in the same direction as Antonio.

"Let the show begin."

---

Jim Gordon had just about enough of it. He didn't care anymore if he would get fired from his job. He was going to the docks, where the criminals were, and he was going to make good his promise in the church.

Slowly and somewhat wraithlike, Jim Gordon snuck into the part of the Gotham docks where the drugs were getting smuggled in through. He melded with the shadows perfectly which he was thankful for because one mistake would cost him his life. He ran through the docks like a monster in the dark. Any of the guards who thought they heard anything were left with nothing more than just ghosts and shadows.

He produced a black 9MM pistol from within the folds of his brown trench coat.

Cautiously he came within distance of the working men who were unloading the drugs from the ships.

He scanned the area and recognized some of the men who were there. Salvatore Maroni was there as well as some of the Gigantes men. Sal's older brother was there as well, Aldo Maroni. But the one who stood out amongst all of them was the man who stood in the middle, overseeing the unloading of the drugs. There stood Luigi Maroni, one of the most feared men in Gotham.

Jim Gordon cocked his weapon. Something was about to be done.

---

Antonio Falcone came into the dock's gates. His headlights were all that illuminated the dark path ahead of them. Upon exiting the car, he went straight for the trunk and started distributing the weapons inside to the two men with him.

Suddenly a bright light emanated from behind them. A black car then parked itself next to theirs.

Carmine and Milos came from within the vehicles.

"So you did decide to come."

"I'm just here to make sure you don't end up dead. I can't take it if I lose another loved one to those Maronis."

Antonio simply gave a warm smile at the comment.

"Let's go!"

The five men ran into the darkness of the docks with uncertainty in their hearts. They pushed through the black haze that seemed to envelop everything that night. They made their way for the light ahead of them. It was not the light at the end of the tunnel, but the darkness made it seem that way.

They stopped at the edge of the light, staying in the shadows enough so that their position was not given away. Antonio gave the signal, and they all cocked their weapons.

He directed the two Falcone thugs to a certain area. Soon, they had surrounded their targets.

The first man looked through the lens of the sniper rifle he had in his hand. A deep breath, then he fired. The shots echoed through the air. One of the men unloading the drugs fell into a lifeless heap.

Instinctively, everyone there jumped for cover, and the Falcones unloaded on their adversaries. Bullets were spewed in all directions. Sparks from the ricochets lit up the night. The gunshots sounded like thunder rolling down from the heavens sent forth by the Gods to finally punish the wicked for their sins.

Over the gunfire, Carmine heard his brother's laughter at the death that unfolded before them.

"Die, you fucking Maronis!" he screamed. "This is for Ma!"

The Maronis fell one by one, and bodies heaped up on the ground. Luigi Maroni ordered a retreat, and without hesitation they all complied. "Boys! Get into the car!" he barked at his two sons.

Sal entered the car backwards as he continued to fire into the blinding darkness.

"Go!" Aldo said. "We'll hold them back."

Luigi simply nodded once and they were out of there.

"They're getting away! Get them!" the older Falcone ordered. They charged in after the car, but the remaining Maroni thugs prevented them from getting any farther.

A bullet entered one of the Falcone thug's chest. The other one fell as a bullet ripped through his knee. Carmine would never forget the sound of his screaming.

Skillfully, Antonio dropped down to one knee and took aim. He fired one shot for each of them. All of them hit except for the one intended for Aldo.

Aldo, upon realizing he was the only one left, ran deeper into the docks. Antonio tried to give chase, but Carmine grabbed his arm. "Just let him go."

Carmine held on to his brother's arm a bit longer because he felt Antonio would still go after the escaped opponent, but after awhile, Antonio calmed down.

"Alright, I suppose we're done here" he said somewhat happy with what had happened. "Let's go home."

---

Aldo tripped.

His face met the wet ground with a loud thud. And he wouldn't even dare think how pathetic he looked falling like a wimp. He picked himself up then brushed off the dirt on his suit.

As he began to return to his previous endeavor (getting away), he was stopped by a voice from behind.

"Stop!" the voice went.

Aldo turned around to find a man in a trench coat pointing a gun at him. He knew immediately who it was. Sal had told him all about the new cop.

"I know you. You're that good cop. Gordon, was it? You can't touch me. I'm a Maroni; I'm untouchable!"

Jim Gordon seemed to be in a dilemma. He lowered his weapon.

"That's right."

But then, Jim raised it again and fired at Aldo's leg. Aldo collapsed to the ground, clutching the area the bullet had gone through.

"You son of a bitch! You're gonna pay for this."

Jim Gordon knelt down beside him, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right…" he said as he cuffed Aldo's hands behind his back.

Something had been done.

---

The Falcones returned home relatively feeling triumphant. A victory had been won, and they had every right to gloat. Even Carmine couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. They had just returned from the hospital to drop off the bodyguard whose knee had been ripped apart into pieces.

In the backseat, Milos was cleaning up all the blood that had been left behind.

They came into the driveway to find Louisa kneeling on the sidewalk. Carmine quickly rushed to her side. "Louisa? What happened? Why are you out here?"

She struggled to speak in between sobs. "They came after you left. They- they took Mario!"

Carmine was horrified by the words. He crumpled up beside her similar to the way she was. Just like that, all the good feelings he had earlier were washed away by a wave of sadness and hopelessness. And what made it worse was that he knew somewhere in Gotham city, Luigi Maroni was smiling.

Next time: Carmine, alongside Antonio and Milos, searches for his son and the men responsible.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There is this place called Gotham City. Perhaps you've heard of it.

It is a dark place ruled by criminals, corrupt politicians, and dirty cops and for this reason the papers have called it a city of crime.

In this place people are afraid, afraid to walk the streets by the time the sun goes down no matter how early it is. They are afraid to fight the evil that has taken over the city. And the people are afraid to die. For this reason, the people have called this place a city of fear.

And in this city there is a man. This man is a man of power, the type no one else in Gotham has. You don't ever cross this man without facing the consequences. But there is someone else who is as frightening as he. His son.

You don't cross either of them without paying.

---

Blood spattered to the ground. At first, he thought that somehow he had gotten a cut and that he was bleeding. That was until he realized the blood was coming from his mouth.

He wiped it as someone picked him up. He couldn't breathe and his chest hurt beyond describing. Another blow came.

He tightened his abs to absorb the blow, but it was too much. He collapsed immediately to the ground.

Another splatter of blood.

A hot light hung above, squeezing him for all of his sweat.

Blood slowly snaked its way down his chin and to his neck. Although he was sweating from the heat, he felt cold. Or maybe alone. He wasn't really sure anymore.

Around him there was pitch black where the yellow light didn't hit. He could not see his attackers save the one that held him form behind. Those who would strike him would return into their hiding places in the dark after a quick punch or slap.

The back of someone's hand found its way to his face. A bright red mark was slapped onto the place where he was hit.

A voice from the dark, threatening yet calm. "I'm giving you another chance Petey. Where is he?"

Peter opened his mouth. It had lost its taste and was dry form hours of torture, yet he still tried to speak. "Luigi Maroni would kill me if I told ya."

"What makes you think I won't, you piece of shit?!" Another voice suddenly came from the blackness, one that Petey hadn't heard speak up until now.

Peter heard whispers from the dark. Whoever the voice belonged to, the rest of the Falcones were afraid. They were afraid to calm him down, but it seemed at the moment they were more afraid of what he would do to Petey.

Peter could here soft voices in the dark, murmurings he could barely make out.

"Carmine we need him alive if you want to find your son" the first voice said. And a few others spoke similar words with cautious tones.

A figure stepped into the light. The overhead lamp's constant swaying played shadows on the man's face.

"Look Petey, we just want to know where the kid is." he began. His calming voice did its soothing tricks on Peter's ears. "You won't be hurt. Just tell us where they are."

"Ya can't stop 'im. You Falcones are going tah die before this thing is over. Ya hear me? We're all going to die."

A laugh escaped Petey's dry mouth. The Falcones looked at themselves, sending murmurings to each other's way.

It was a frightening sight, at least, for them. Yes, it was frightening: the man, the dark, and the laughter.

---

The moonlight prismed as it went through the glass panes of his office. It played patterns and shapes of all sorts on his carpeted floor. Everything about the world seemed to be wrong now. The things he once loved and the loved ones he once had had been taken from him in one swift motion. All he had now were his children. And a great chill ran up his spine at the thought of their death. He loved all of them, was proud of them even if he never found the words to say it.

It was silent. Although the wind spoke with the rustling of the leaves and the moon told tall tales with its radiant light; there was silence. A calming silence which he knew would not last. The end was coming, he knew it. His empire would crumble beneath the weight if the new crime empire of Gotham.

The clicking of stilettos approached from the living room. In seconds, the door swung open allowing light to stream into the dark room.

"Papa, I'm going out." He heard her speak, but the words did not come to him.

"Hm?'

"I'm going out." She repeated this time irritation lined the sides of the sentence.

"Oh, ok."

She turned and left him there alone and uncertain, almost as pathetic as a crime lord should never be.

"Carla…" he called out to her just as she put one foot through the door. A pause and then "I love you."

She opened her mouth, but words did not flow. It was like she had never heard the words before and perhaps she hadn't. "I love you too papa." For a moment, it seemed they had connection they never had before, but it only lasted for a moment. She turned and left him no different than he had been before she had come.

Everything was starting to crumble. He knew this to be true.

---

No one in the GCPD liked Jim Gordon, but all of them couldn't help but feel sorry for him. There are things you don't do. Unwritten laws that need to be followed: you don't go to a dark alley if you're not looking for a fight, you don't talk to a cop unless you have money on you, and you don't mess with the untouchables.

The untouchables. They're not the rich business men who live high above the city like gods up on Mount Olympus. They are not the police force who harasses the weak and defenseless. Not even the mayor himself is one of the untouchables. No, they are those who are really in charge, the men in black suits who drive about in their black cars like wolves on the prowl for prey. They are the untouchables. At least, they seem to be.

Jim Gordon understood what he had done. Aldo Maroni would be out of prison in the time it took him to light a cigar and there was really nothing he could do. He was happy though with what he had done. He showed them that not everyone in Gotham is afraid.

Deep down, Jim was happy he did not have a family to watch over for the Maronis would surely use them against him.

He watched with his boots up on his desk as police officers led Aldo Maroni out to his car which awaited outside. He put on a cocky smile when Aldo stared at him with blazing eyes.

They spoke no words to each other. There was really nothing they could say. Not in words. But the stares they gave each other spoke loud enough. You could almost feel everyone there nodding their heads. What a shame; he was a good cop. And truly, he was.

The commissioner peered his head from inside his office. Jim knew exactly what he wanted. Before he even spoke, Jim had already stood up from his seat.

"Gordon, get in here."

Jim slammed the door behind him. He felt there was no reason for his fellow officers to hear what he was about to go through.

"Gordon, what the hell do you think your doing?" commissioner Loeb was fuming. "I told you to stay away from the Maronis."

"I'm doing my job. And despite what the police force in Gotham does, my job is still to put away bad people."

"Your job is to follow orders. We have nothing on them Gordon and as much as I'd like to put those drug runners in jail, I can't."

Jim chuckled a bit at Loeb's comments. "Maybe we would have something on them if half the force wasn't on their paycheck."

Commissioner Loeb sighed. We walked over to his window and pulled down the blinds. He watched the busy sight before him. The streets below him seemed to breathe all by itself. He saw to cops mix with the crowd. One of them had a hot dog sandwich in his hand. "They're good men, Jim. They do your job just like you and me. But the world seems so simple for you. Black and white. Good and evil. But not all of us can have that luxury. There are just some things we can't change."

Jim Gordon stood motionless. He could hear each of the commissioners words, didn't allow for himself to miss even just one word.

Loeb continued. "I'm sorry the world is the way it is, Jim. We can't control it. You can't blame us for how things turned out the way they did. You're dismissed Mr. Gordon."

Jim turned with no words uttered. Maybe Gotham was hopeless. Maybe no matter what he did, none of it would matter in the long run. And in that time of hopelessness, Jim Gordon remembered the reason he wanted to be a police officer. He stopped right before he could put one foot out the door. "It's not your fault Gotham turned out this way, but that doesn't give you the right to stand idly by and do nothing." The door slammed shut behind Jim Gordon, leaving the commissioner all alone in his room. And for the first time in a long time, police commissioner Loeb found himself questioning what he was doing with his life. And the answer was simple: it was wrong.

---

Gotham City seemed much darker. Carmine thought it strange that he would only notice it now when he was about to leave. He hated the city. Of that he was sure, but it seemed he never truly knew quite how much.

It was quiet. That part of town always was at night. No one dared to venture out at that time. It was almost considered as suicide.

Carmine Falcone stared up at the sky above as he sat on the car hood of Milos' car. There were no stars, just the moon and clouds outlined in silver moonlight. The car radio was on. Some guy talking about the crime in Gotham, the usual stuff. Milos sat in the driver's seat, whispering disagreements at the radio.

"Good evening Gothamites. This is your DJ on the air, Sleepy Bob." There was static in the voice that emanated from the radio. "You folks hear about this: dozens of convicted criminals have claimed that they were framed by GCPD officers. Now, the DA's office isn't buying it, but folks, we all know it's true. We've got the most corrupt force in the country. Damn cops turn on the people they're supposed to protect at the first sniff of m-o-n-e-y."

Milos listened to what the DJ was saying, but his attention was split. He could see Carmine over the windshield and he couldn't help feeling that he needed to say something. He was never the chatty type; however, he knew when it was necessary.

"Carmine, you alright? You're a bit quiet over there. I'm suppose to be the quiet one, remember?"

"Huh? Oh right." Carmine's eyes did not trail from the sky. "I'm fine"

"What you looking at Carmine?"

"The stars"

Milos looked up as well then scratched his head. "What stars? There's nothing up there." A red sparkle came into Milos' view. "Wait, I think I see it," he said, pointing up.

"That's a plane." Carmine chuckled.

"Oh" Again, Milos scratched his head.

"I would have taken them to the country. Just look up at the stars, let time spill away. You know do things fathers would do." There was a pause. Milos would've spoken, but he knew Carmine had more to say. That was just one of the things he could tell. Milos Grappa had been his bodyguard for so long that they were almost like brothers.

"You know, Carmine, I'm proud of you."

"And why is that?"

"The guys told me about what you tried to do to that Sullivan guy" Milos said. "It takes a lot for you to calm down after what that guy did to your son. I'm glad"

"I haven't calmed down; I'm just saving up my anger for those who are responsible. They'll pay Milos. All of them." Carmine took one last look at the sky, then he met Milos' eyes. "They'll pay."

Gotham city seemed much darker.

---

Loud screams approached. They were as if they came from deep within the soul of Gotham itself. It was a silent rumbling at first, slowly gaining volume like a bowling ball before it hit the pins. Finally, the shouting reached just outside the front door which swung open after a few short moments.

"That fucking cop! I'm going to rip out his balls." said the first man as he addressed the others behind him.

The first man was, as everyone already knew, Aldo Maroni, first born son to Luigi Maroni, Gotham City's untouchable crime lord.

A few nameless thugs tailed and entered the room from the corridor behind him, and his brother was the last to come in.

"Aldo, you need to come down" said Sal Maroni "You can't lose track of the big picture here, the fucking Falcones. That goody good cop Jim Gordon doesn't matter. Once we take care of the Falcones, Gotham will be ours."

Almost everyone in that room smiled in approval.

"That man insults me!" Aldo said "What makes him think he can look me in the eye when even Bertinelli can't? He needs to be taught respect. I'll kill his family. I'll kill his dogs. Hell, I'll even kill the roaches that live on his kitchen floor."

A round of laughter filled the room.

Sal said "Heh, Okay, fine. We'll take care of your cop friend after we finish of the Falcones. After all, even I don't like Jim Gordon. No one in Gotham does. But he's going to have to wait. We're close, Aldo. So very close. We won't- can't screw up. It's just not possible."

Aldo walked over to the pool table and took a seat with the men who sat there playing. One of them handed him a beer which he immediately took from the man's hands without thanking him.

"How sure are you we won't screw up?" he took a sip from the bottle. "I heard they caught one of your guys. I always knew the Irish weren't reliable."

"Don't worry, it's being taken care off."

"It better be."

A smile was the only response he merited.

Aldo raised his glass up to the roof. "To the Maronis!"

"Yah!" everyone said, and the festivities for that night had begun.

When the party had become to wild to keep track of, Sal snuck out the back door and into the Gotham streets. A man met him there. Someone who seemed like he had been waiting there all night. He took one more puff at his cigarette before flicking in to the asphalt. The light it gave off made the man think of fireflies even though he had never actually seen one in real life.

"It is being taken care off, right?" Sal said, pulling out his own cigarette from within his coat.

"They think they have him trapped. They don't. We kinda figured this would happen. They're better than your father gives them credit for. He doesn't respect them, doesn't think they're capable. Don't make that mistake."

"I don't. That's why I picked you to do this job, Michael." Sal blew white shapes out of his mouth: circles, loops, and things that weren't really shapes.

"What about Luca? Why'd you pick him for this job." He asked silently, the activities inside the house almost drowned out his words.

"I expected him to die in the first hit." Sal admitted. "He didn't obviously. Then, I expected you to leave him for dead when you nabbed the kid."

"I don't work like that. Honor among thieves and all that other bullshit our kind has forgotten."

"Yeah" he finished his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoes. "This family can't have spineless cowards like him lying around. But you know what, I give up. He'll die on his own terms one day when this is all done. Or maybe I'll kill him. Unless that goes against your honor among thieves bullshit"

"Not if I'm not related to it."

Small embers flared from their cigarettes. Fireflies, he thought again. Why exactly he didn't know. He dismissed it as just something he wanted to see when he was a child.

"Good" were the last words spoken. And Michael Skeevers left that place, and Sal was left alone. He was headed back into the party when he heard the trash cans in the alley fall over. He quickly ran to it to investigate. Nothing. "Damn cats" he said before returning indoors.

---

Someone heard them that night. He lurked in the shadow, blending in like a bat. The words spoken that night were not meant to be for him. Not meant for his ears. But he heard them anyway. Felt their sting because he knew each uttered word was true. Even then he couldn't believe they would do that to him. He'd been loyal his entire life. Sure, he was no Al Capone, but he still couldn't believe they would do that to him. That's why he ran from it when he heard too much. Though he knew it was too late. Yet he still ran. Even when he tripped over the trash can in the alley way, he continued on into the black abyss of Gotham's soul. He ran because he heard them that night. He ran.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Michael Skeevers aligned his eyes to the scope. There was a long wait ahead of him, and he wanted to be sure that everything was perfect when the time came. He calculated every detail: gravity, the speed of the bullet, and the wind speed.

A flier for the upcoming elections, moving to the rhythm of the wind, blew past him. It did not go unnoticed. He observed how fast it went by. Perfection was the only option. It was either that, or death. But he wasn't worried; he was the best in Gotham. There was no one else who could do what he was capable of because they were all dead.

Every single one of them.

He readied his finger on the trigger. It was hours away before he actually had to pull it. But he loved how it felt, how he was god when he was on the right side of the barrel and all the others were mortals, pleading for his mercy. It is a momentary godhood like a part of him that doesn't surface when he doesn't have a rifle. But for as long as it lasted, it was… absolute pleasure.

---

"I don't like you Sullivan." Antonio said, breaking the endless silence. The man he had spoken to moved in his seat. "There really is no reason for me not to just kill you except that you know where my nephew is, so I'm forced to keep you alive which I really find irritating."

Petey began coughing up something gravelly from the back of his throat. The rough sound seemed to get even rougher as it just about to get to his mouth. He spat something nasty to the floor before him. For a moment, it made even Antonio Falcone twitch.

"Threatening me really won't help you." he finally managed to say in a forced voice. "How do I know you won't just kill me after I tell you where the brat is?"

"You won't. Plain and simple."

Petey opened his eyes. His sight was blurred, and he gave it a few seconds to focus. He found himself looking down at the floor. He was the disgusting hunk of spit that had come from deep within him. He observed two bodyguards at the door, and his hands were still tied behind his back. There was no way to escape.

"I guess it's the shite pit with me then, eh? Me an' a pit o' fucking shite."

Antonio let out a sigh of exasperation. He produced a packet of cigarettes from one of his pockets. "You want one?" he said, drawing one of the sticks to his mouth.

"Nah"

Antonio pointed two fingers at Sullivan with a cigarette wedged between them. "I don't get you, Sullivan." He blew a big cloud of smoke through his teeth. "What's- what's with this loyalty. I mean, it's not like the Maronis actually care about you."

"I'm fucking Irish. None of ya Italian bastards give a damn about me."

"True" he said. The tone in his voice made it quite clear that he was not taking Peter Sullivan seriously. "The time of the Irish is long past, but then I could use someone with your talents."

One cigarette down. He pulled another one out of the pack and struck a match on his palm. His tone changed. Now, it seemed, he was taking Peter seriously.

"I may not like you Irish cock-suckers, but I respect you. There aren't any Italians around who can do what you do. We could use you."

Peter sniffed. "The answer's still no."

"What is it your afraid off?" he asked. "What? You fearful for your family? I can protect them, keep them safe."

"You think you can, but you can't. They own Gotham. You lost long before this fight ever even began."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." With that, Antonio turned to leave. "I could've protected your family. Now, I'm going to kill them. Well, maybe I won't kill them…yet. That would be no fun."

The door slammed behind him, leaving Peter Sullivan alone once again in the darkness.

And in that moment, though no one could see it with all the blood and sweat pouring down his face, he cried.

---

It was rare that Luca "Toots" Mareli would find himself in Gotham Park, but somehow he had drifted there while he strolled mindlessly through the city he grew up in. There was really no reason for him to go there before, then again, there was no reason for him to be there now.

He never knew how beautiful it was. It seemed it was one of the few peaceful places in the entire city. It was like a haven he never thought existed in such a hopeless place.

The sites before him almost brought tears to his eyes. He hated what he was doing, but it was all he knew.

The sound of children's laughter filled the afternoon air. There were only a handful of people there, all of them a sight of happiness. Well, almost all of them. There was the man who sat a few benches away from him, a concerned look in his eyes.

Luca closed his eyes and took a deep breathe. The fresh air entered him, and it was like it washed away all his sins though he knew it was not possible.

He watched intently at the couple on the opposite side of the creak. They lay on top of one f those picnic towels with the checkered design. The woman sat with a book in hand and a small smile etched onto her beautiful face. The man on the other hand stared lovingly at the woman's face, mirroring her smile.

Luca gave off a big sigh. This was what they were destroying. It was sad.

The sun slowly tucked itself behind a curtain of cotton clouds. He glanced at his wristwatch. The arms told him it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. A lot of time to think about his life.

There was a time, he thought, when the world seemed so simple. He never thought of the ramifications of his actions. Those were the days when he couldn't see the things around him now. And now these things were in the brink of being wiped out of the map of Gotham City forever.

He looked up. A flock of grey pigeons flew past his head. He admired their free will because inside him, we wanted to be free like them.

Luca "Toots" Mareli turned his attention back to the man a few benches away from him. He had glasses on and had brown hair. He wore an old trench coat.

_He must be a cop_, Luca thought before returning to admiring all the other things around him.

---

Hundreds of papers littered Felice Viti's desk. He pushed pile after pile away as he searched for that one document. When he finally found it, its contents seemed even more grim than the other documents that came before it.

He compiled their monthly income to one side of his desk while the amount of money they earned from their many "businesses" was compiled in the other. It was a dark time for the Viti family. Even with them not having to deal with tax problems, it was quite obvious that they would be living in the streets if the war was not ended soon.

He punched in a few numbers into the calculator in his hand. Another plus then a division sign. The numbers made him utter the words "Oh my God" silently.

He leaned back on his seat, brushing his hair back with his fingers. Another "Oh my god" escaped his lips. "We're screwed." He slumped forward in his seat. His fingers drummed repeatedly on his forehead.

"No, no. We can do this. All we need to do is cut down a bit, then when the Falcones win the war, we'll be on top again." He said. "Now let's see what's on the news ,shall we?" He switched the TV on with a quick press of the remote.

"Gang violence erupted today in Gotham's East End between two rival mafia families. 15 men died in the firefight that lasted only a few minutes here in this neighborhood" the reporter said as she pointed to the buildings behind her. Faces of men then appeared in a small box on the upper left side of the screen. She addressed each one as their names simultaneously flashed on the screen. Most of them were Falcones.

Felice switched the TV off. "Okay, so maybe the Falcones aren't going to win the war. But we can still just cut down. Maybe go legit" the possibilities raced through his head, each one more radical the one that came before it. "Yeah, we'll just cut down on our expenses."

The sound of motor and tires came to his ears. He walked over to his window to see a black car, no different from all the other black cars the owned, drive up to the front door. A woman then walked up to the open back door held by one of their butlers. She was blonde and very beautiful. His wife, Carla Falcone.

She had a small dog in tow and a few shopping bags.

"Will we be going shopping today, madam?" the butler asked in a proper English accent.

She answered with a short "yes".

"Cut down." Felice muttered to himself. "Yeah right" with a sigh. "Shit!"

---

Jim Gordon place himself comfortably on an old, wooden bench in Gotham Park. He took a deep breathe and just inhaled all the fresh air he could in one gulp, the wonders clean air could do to the body.

This was one of the few places he loved in Gotham City. It was still untainted by the blight of criminality. This was the one place the families didn't fight over. In truth, there was no reason for them to fight over it. It was useless for business. It was just a big hole of mud and dirt and trees and water and pigeons.

There were no businesses there. Well, not the big ones. There were a few hotdog and ice cream stands, but nothing worth extorting.

Jim produced a paper bag from one of the pockets of his trench coat. Inside were seeds and breadcrumbs for the birds.

He reached inside the bag and scattered its contents onto the grass where it was, almost immediately, consumed by a flock of wild, frenzied pigeons.

He threw a few farther than usual which earned an aerial summersault by some of the more energetic birds. He laughed at the fat ones that tumbled and fell as they tried to keep up with the others. Their little wings would flap almost as fast as bee wings. And yet, they would still drop back first on the grass while the thinner birds got away with their meals.

He glanced over to the distance, on the other side of the pond while he continued to scatter the little goodies from the brown paper bag.

A couple sat there, their loving gazes into each others eyes blocked off all disturbances from the world that moved by around them.

And for a quick moment, Jim Gordon imagined what it would be like to have someone to love like a wife and a family. He imagined them living in a reformed Gotham where crime and poverty was a thing of the past. He liked to think it would be achieved after all there were still good people in Gotham like the Waynes. He imagined he would raise his daughter in this city without having fear in his heart. He would not be afraid of losing his wife to a crazed madman, or looking at his daughter's life be ruined by some man with a gun. No; in his imagination, Gotham would be safe. A haven just like this place.

This place was perfect: the air, the couples, the children, the birds, and…

…the man in black who sat a few benches to his left?

_Is he?_ Jim Gordon thought. _He couldn't be. Not here. Not in Gotham's final haven. _

---

"I'll talk"

The two words that would end all his torment were finally said. He said it to the stale air with nothing more than the conviction of a whisper. His voice was now raspier than it was days ago. He didn't know how long he had been down there. All he knew was that it was a long time. Ages.

He forced himself to say the words again, this time even louder and it made his throat feel like it was being sanded down with sand paper.

Another try and it was finally loud enough for the man posted outside to hear. The large bulk of shadow beneath the door shifted and moved until finally disappearing only to return minutes later an even larger mass of darkness.

Soft voices came through from the other side of the door. They paused for a moment right outside the door as if they were intentionally making him wait. Perhaps they were.

The door knob turned and slowly the door swung to a full open. Bright light streamed down from the door. His eyes watered at the sight for he had been in so much darkness. In a sense, that at that moment, only he could understand, it was beautiful.

Familiar shadows stood in the light's path. Two men stayed outside the door only peaking their heads in to see the bloody mess of a man inside.

The dark figure that stood upfront had his hands to his waste. There was a gnawing silence. Peter waited for the man to speak, but he did not. He only stood there watching with eyes that Peter could not see in the dark side of his face.

Peter decided to speak first no matter how much it hurt the insides of his throat.

"I'll talk. I'll tell you everything I know." A cough followed each word uttered.

"Finally decided to be smart, I see" the man drenched in shadows said. "You're not as stupid as I thought, you fucking Irish. It seems I was wrong about you. All this time I thought you were going to keep up this whole loyalty bullshit. I was so sure I was going to have to pick up your boys: Donny and Mickey, but I see you honor you're family, and I respect that. I won't touch them."

"Thank you."

Antonio Falcone walked over to one side of the room, disappearing into the wall of darkness. Yellow light started to flicker on and off for a few moment. After awhile they settled, and light flooded the room.

Peter pulled his head down away from the lights.

"So what have you got to tell me?" said Antonio as he moved back in front of Peter Sullivan.

"I don't know where the kid is, but Michael Skeevers might know.

"Michael Skeevers…Michaels Skeevers" he repeated the name again and again. "Forgive me if I left my phonebook at home."

"He's a wise guy…" blood dripped from the side of his mouth. "a wise guy originally from Chicago. There's not much we know about him except that he's good."

"Okay keep talking"

"He was with me when we nabbed the kid. Maybe he knows where the kid is. He's usually over at the-" Peter coughed out another blot of blood onto the floor in front of him. "Holiday bar." He finally managed to say after a few seconds of catching his breathe.

Antonio Falcone stared at him for a few seconds as if he was trying to read if he was telling the truth.

"Thank you" he said, turning to leaver the room.

"My family, ya promise you won't touch 'em" Peter asked.

"Yes, I promise."

Antonio made his way out, and closed the door behind him.

"Boss" one of the large men by the door said. "What do we do with this Irish cocksucker?"

Antonio paused for a moment that was ever so brief, rubbing his chin as he thought of Peter's destiny. And when a face of resolve was seen on his face, he brought his hands back down to his side and simply said. "Kill him."

---

Louisa Falcone hadn't seen sunlight in 5 days since the kidnapping of her eldest son, Mario. For hours on end she would stare blindly into the distance while tears streamed down her cheeks.

She couldn't help but feel dread rising up from within her as the thought of what was happening to her boy went through her head.

She had settled now. The tears were gone and had only left stains on her face where they flowed the most. But the thoughts were still there, eating away at her sanity every hour she did not see the face of her boy.

She held a tea cup in her hand. A present for their wedding, she thought. She took a sip from it and swirled the coffee in her mouth before finally swallowing it.

The coffee was bland and had no taste, or perhaps it did, and she was just too distracted to even realize when coffee is good. At the moment, she really couldn't care less.

A car drove past the street outside their house. And she jumped slightly in her seat almost instinctively. Her head shot and looked outside the window to find the car driving off. "I thought it was my boy" she explained to herself. "But it wasn't" she continued. "It was just a car."

She took another sip of the tasteless coffee. It was still tasteless. Maybe it really was bland, and it wasn't just her. Maybe.

Another car drove by. Just like the first it didn't stop and just kept on driving off.

"It's not them. It's never them."

---

The gun was cocked, and the rest of the world was cut out.

There was only him and the target. He was ready, focused. He checked all the variables one more time even if he had already done so six times before. They were perfect. What he was waiting for finally came.

He couldn't see inside the car. He'd have to wait for them to get out first.

That was okay. Patience was something he had plenty of.

---

It was a death march. Dozens of black cars filed into one line and headed to the other end of town like soldier ants on a quest to defend their nest. Each man there knew what they were driving to.

It would be their deaths.

All were silent as they made their way to their destination. Words were no longer necessary at this point. They all knew what it was they needed to do.

Men, women, and children watched the long line of cars drive past their neighborhood from the sidewalks and houses. Many did not dare to look too long. There were punishments for people who did not know their place.

It was not long before the caravan came to a stop. The cars surrounded an old bar that sat in Maroni territory. Dozens of men emerged from within the black machines. Each of them sported a firearm: Tommy guns, magnums, snub-noses, pistols. Some even held Molotov cocktails, ready to set the bar ablaze if the need arose.

Antonio exited his car last, holding a fully loaded Tommy gun in hand. He was met by Carmine, furious as he approached. Mario tailed behind him.

"What the hell is this?!" Carmine asked. "You told me you wanted to talk. Not start a war."

"They're the one who started this war when they killed ma" he retorted. "And I thought you wanted to see Mario again."

"You know where Mario is?"

"No" he said, bringing the gun to his side. "But this guy does."

He motioned for one of the Mafia soldados to give Carmine a weapon. He was handed a Tommy gun similar to the one Antonio had.

"Where is Michael Skeevers?!" he shouted to those inside the bar. There was no answer, only silence. Even the neighborhood around them was as silent as silence itself.

He shouted again. "Where is Michael Skeevers." And again there was no reply. "That's it. Kill those cock-sucking Maronis."

Carmine's eyes widened at the command, but before he could protest the first shot was already fired, and all the soldiers there fired as well. Bullets riddled the bars outside. Splinters flew into the air as the bullets hit. Tires flattened, and cars were almost ripped apart with bullet holes. Even when all the eye could see were bullets, the Falcone men didn't stop. They gave the bar all the whole clip. 90 bullets worth of hatred.

They were all drunk with power. Only the maddened silence of the men and the sound of gunfire filled the air. They continued until they could no loner, and the sound of clicking overcame the sound of gunfire. They were out.

The entire time Carmine didn't even fire a shot.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he asked no one in particular. "That man knows where my son is."

He ran to the bar. Milos followed suit while Antonio ordered 5 other mafia thugs to enter the bar as well.

Carmine entered to the site of sheer destruction. Chairs and tables and bottles of whiskey were all sculpted from their original shape by the shower of bullets. But with all the destruction and debris, there was no blood. No bodies could be found littering the bar floor.

"I don't understand." Carmine said. "I thought he was here."

Milos stood in the middle of the room. He looked for anything out of the ordinary, but could not find anything. But he knew something was off. The other five Falcone men entered the bar. They were all on the defensive.

"They're not here" said the first man who entered.

"This was all just a trick" said another.

"Be quiet." Milos ordered to the others; however, he was simply ignored.

"When we get back, I'm gonna kick that fucking Irish's ass" the first man said.

"There ain't no point on that. They took him to the dump to kill him right now."

"Will you two fucking shut up" Milos repeated the order. They suddenly fell silent. That was when he heard it. He couldn't hear it over the men's chattering. But now it was clear. A beeping came from behind the counter.

Milos ran over to Carmine who was now kneeling and grabbed him by his coat.

"We need to get out of here, now!"

He dragged Carmine out the front door. The others had already left. Everything was in slow motion. He could feel the weight of each agonizingly slow step. His only wish at that moment was that it was not too late. Heat erupted from behind them. Milos didn't even dare turn back.

Carmine did and saw a ball of flame coming right at them. His legs died out on his, and he found himself falling to the ground. The great blaze shot above them. Though it did not hit him directly, he could feel embers reaching through his coat and onto his back. He struggled to kill the flames, rolling on the ground five times. When the flames had finally died down, he picked himself backup.

They were surrounded. Men in black coats scurried over the rooftops around them. Gunfire flared from both sides. Carmined crawled to a nearby car, reuniting with Antonio.

"They tricked us" his older brother said. "The fucking Maronis tricked us."

Antonio fired two shots at the nearest roof. Two of the Maronis plummeted to their deaths as they felt the hot bladed sting of the bullets on their chest. He saw three Maroni thugs in the alley way behind them. They were being flanked. He shot a burst of bullets in their direction only to be greeted by the sound of a miss. He fired again and again, but to no avail. They were well covered. He kept on firing until it was time for him to reload. He pressed the button on the side of the gun, and the clip just dropped to the ground.

The three Maronis then emerged with shotguns in their hands. "Shit" he couldn't reload fast enough.

They cocked their weapons and took aim. But when Antonio thought he was all done for, they fell to the ground. He looked around to see what had happened. He found Milos getting up from the ground with a smoking Tommy gun in hand.

"We can win this" Antonio said.

He took a Molotov cocktail from one of the corpses that lay near him and through it to the roof tops. It erupted and burned the men atop the buildings to a crisp.

Their morale was high, and they truly did believe that they could win. Carmine watched the carnage around him. There was no way he would let his family see this violence. It was insanity. And over the gunfire, and the shouting, he heard sirens. Red and blue lights flashed into the area, and all he could say was "cops".

---

"May I join you?" Jim Gordon asked the man sitting on the bench.

"Huh?" he said and looked at who it was who was speaking to him. When he saw that it was the cop he had noticed earlier, he hesitated, but agreed to it a few moments later.

"Sure"

Jim sat beside him and pulled out a brown paper bag, the same one he was using earlier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He said it without even looking at Luca. His gaze was fixed on the people around them. There were relatively less people now than earlier that afternoon. Many of the people had left as soon as the sun hinted that it was about to leave.

"Yeah" Luca said, watching the sun set.

"You know when I told people that I wanted to be a cop in Gotham, they all protested." He pulled out a brown paper bag, the same one he used earlier and scattered the last of the bread crumbs and seeds. "They told me Gotham was a waste of time. There was no hope left in this place, and it would be useless to try and save it."

Luca just kept quiet.

"I didn't believe them, of course. But in reality that was just because I had never seen this place. When I came here and saw all of it: the garbage, the crime, the fear, something deep inside me believed that maybe it wasn't worth it in the end."

"It's the truth. God stopped watching over this place a long time ago."

"Do you truly believe that? I don't think so, or else, you wouldn't be here. I could lose hope in this place and leave for Chicago tomorrow, forget about this place forever. But I know there's still a reason I have to try and make things better. There are still good people here. I think this park proves it. There are good people here, and not just in this place untouched by the blight even in the places where you would least expect it. I can see in your eyes why you're here. We all make mistakes, kid. Sometimes they're so big that we just lose hope in everything, but that doesn't mean we can't fix what we've done. We can always undo the evil we have done."

---

The sound of gunshots followed them as they ran into an alleyway. Antonio led the way, followed by Mario, Carmine, and another soldier named Tom. Sirens wailed all around. They each of them knew that they were surrounded. They were running in circles.

"Wait" Antonio said. "Up the fire escape."

Milos jumped and took hold of the ladder, pulling it down with his weight.

"Everyone up."

Police officers came from around the corner, batons and hand guns in hand.

"Stop!" they yelled, but their shouts were simply ignored. The cops followed them up the fire escape and onto the Gotham City rooftops.

"There's nowhere to go" Tom said, panic in his voice.

Milos scanned the area for any way out. There was only one option. He didn't like it.

"We'll have to jump to the next roof" He made sure everyone understood there was no other way.

Antonio ordered everyone to the vent fans for cover. "I'll go first. You guys cover me as I jump, then I'll turn around and cover you as you jump. You understand?"

They all nodded.

He handed Carmine a snub-nose. "Be careful" He ran to the edge of the building. Bullets whizzed past him every step of the way. He took a deep breathe and just propelled himself to the other rooftop. The soles of his shoes landed with a loud thud. He could almost feel his knees buckling.

He turned. The rest of them were being pinned down with suppressive fire. He held down the trigger in the direction of the fire escape. One of the police men was killed instantly, a mess of holes and blood. He signaled for the next man to jump. Tom went next. He didn't even look to see if it was clear. He just ran for the next roof. He was fast and was able to clear the gap with no trouble at all. He landed right beside Antonio.

Milos pulled Carmine in front of him. "You go next."

"I'm not leaving you here." Carmine protested.

"Don't worry I'll be right behind you." And they both nodded to each other.

Carmine waited for the signal. When it came, he ran as fast as he could, and Milos gave a whole lot of bullets.

The gap was there. He closed his eyes and just jumped. He was in the air for what seemed like forever. He didn't feel a thud, but he thought maybe he was already there.

He opened his eyes. He wasn't there yet. He was still mid-flight. He was way too low to reach the other roof. He reached for it and took hold of the side of the roof.

He could here his brother shouting at Tom. "Grab him! Grab him!"

Carmine felt himself slip. Luckily, Tom was fast enough to grab hold of his arm.

"Got ya" There was a smile on his face when he caught Carmine. He was the hero of the moment, but that was all ripped away from him as a bullet shot right through the arm that was holding Carmine. Blood sprayed on his face and Carmine's.

Carmine fell three stories. Antonio and Milos yelled his name simultaneously. He hit a closed dumpster below him. The sound of metal on flesh and bone was horrifying. And he found himself struggling for breathe. He could hear sirens closing in. He had no time to waste. He scraped himself off the dumpster. He gasped for air with every movement.

The gun fight above him continued as he limped out of that alley. The sirens were getting louder.

He went to an abandoned factory that was across the street for where he was and simply slumped down to the floor.

He took a couple deep breathes. His back and lungs still hurt from the fall. He closed his eyes and simply wanted the drift off into sleep. His breathing slowed and dreams of his boy came to be.

"Carmine Falcone?" his eyes opened. He turned to see a man standing there with him. "I know where your son is."


End file.
